


His Silence

by ThatGuyAlex



Category: Original Work
Genre: But are they?, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Depression, Gen, Hallucinations, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, One Shot, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Short, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatGuyAlex/pseuds/ThatGuyAlex
Summary: When I first met him, I didn't understand his silence.Completed: 3/22/2020





	His Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on March 22nd, 2020. I've just reuploaded all my works to AO3 now that I have an account.

When I first met him, I didn't understand his silence.

He never spoke, never seemed to care whether you wanted an answer or not, he remained silent. Despite the endless questions I gave him, he never had a reply. At times it was deafening, always talking yet never getting a response. Perhaps he was mute, or simply didn't like people, I told myself as I stared at him from across the room, the room we were forced to share even if neither of us liked it. Yet when night fell, I came to understand his silence.

I had still been awake, reading a shitty romance novel we had been given while he laid in the bed beside mine, body stiff and taut. His eyebrows furrowed together as a frown stood clear on his face, as if he knew his night wouldn't be a peaceful one. At first, I thought it was a trick of the eye. The tiredness getting to me, letting me see things that weren't real, yet as the shadow grew closer to him, I knew it was real. It had claws and fangs, a body made of shadows and a figure that seemed human, but something was off. And as it raised a hand, ready to strike down against his pale skin and cut through it like ribbons, I threw the book I held at it and it disappeared into the shadows. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night, terrified it may come back, and then I knew why he held such silence.

The morning came and he was gone when I awoke, already in the cafeteria while I had to force myself to the bathroom in order to get ready. When I saw him, neither of us spoke. It was as if he knew I had seen, seen what had been haunting him, seen the creatures that begged to claw at his skin, to sink their fangs into his flesh and tear it from bone, to eat his entire being and leave nothing left. They plagued his mind, his dreams turned into nightmares and his thoughts were filled with death. Part of me hoped to save him, while another part of me knew I couldn't.

It happened again, the next night. Those _things_ came for him, and I knew I had to stop it. I threw the closest thing I had at them, and they hissed and clawed at my skin before disappearing, leaving red lines like tally marks that would only gather the more I continued. Though I knew I wouldn't stop, I had to save him, to help him, even if I ended up getting hurt in the process. I crawled into his bed, that night, my wounded arm around his body, and his hand grasped at my skin as if I was the one thing keeping him safe, keeping him grounded even in his sleep.

When I awoke, he was staring. Staring at me, my face, my arm, the lines that gathered on them. He apologized, and I just shook my head, saying it wasn't his fault, because it wasn't. He wasn't responsible for the things that plagued him, that now plagued both of us, nor was he responsible for my actions, my need to protect him. Nothing was his fault, and I knew he understood.

We learned to understand each other, even without words. Each night I'd scare away the things that haunted him, and I'd crawl into his bed and hold him, and when I awoke he would hold me, ward off the things that plagued my mind as his larger figure shielded mine like a barrier between our world and everyone else's. We didn't talk much, not that it was needed. We learned to understand each other perfectly. The soft touches he left on my arm as a form of apology, fingers running through hair that meant adoration, arms around each other that served as protection. We didn't need anyone else except each other, because we grew to understand each other, to protect each other from our demons, to live in peace within the world we created for ourselves where, just for a moment, nothing could touch us.


End file.
